


We Make Our Own Way

by queenmab24601



Category: Dark Wolverine (Comics), Fantastic Four, Fantastic Four (Comicverse), Marvel, Marvel (House of M)
Genre: Alternate Universe - House of M, Bisexual Male Character, F/M, M/M, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 15:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4025647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenmab24601/pseuds/queenmab24601
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny Storm is the star of Sapien Death Match, the most watched program in the world of the House of M. Akihiro Howlett is his manager and best friend since Johnny lost his family in college. Johnny's in love with him, but that's friendship ruining level stuff. Plus then he'd have Laura for a sister-in-law, and she's a scary lady.</p>
<p>Oh, also Johnny may be losing his TV Star status because of corporate machinations and end up a bodyguard for the youngest princes of the house of Magnus right as a political envoy from Skrullos arrives on Earth. </p>
<p>But that's secondary to the whole in love with his best friend thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Make Our Own Way

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing in Marvel, and it may not be that good, but I am so taken with the idea of this AU that I had to write it. I'm not sure how many chapters there will be, or if more characters will be added as the story continues. 
> 
> Also emetophobia trigger warning for this first chapter. It's only a brief mention, but I thought I'd warn ahead of time.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The moment Johnny woke up in the morning, he knew he had made a mistake.

“Ow, ow, Fuck,” He murmured, rubbing his temples with both hands. Hesitantly, he looked around the room, trying to determine if this was another disaster of the tabloids catching him being thrown out of sapien heiress Frankie Rayes’s apartment level, or something else entirely. Oh, wait, he knew this apartment. The bedroom was all plain white walls, with abstract art placed at perfectly symmetrical points around the room, with blue grey carpeting that matched the carpeting and sheets. It wasn’t Johnny’s style, to be honest. But he knew whose it was.

            “Hiro?” Johnny called. “Where are you. man?” Johnny got out of bed and looked for his clothes. His jeans were carefully folded over a chair with a post-it note on top that read ‘Levi’s, really? You can do better Johnny’. Johnny crushed the note in his fist before tossing it into across the room into a garbage can next to the bathroom. Boom, one shot. Johnny tugged the jeans on over his boxers, not bothering to look for his shirts. Maybe he hadn’t come in with one on. It wouldn’t be the first time it had happened. “Hiro?” Johnny called again, pushing open the bedroom door.

            Outside the bedroom was a spotless kitchen with granite countertops and an industrial cooking oven, and a bar where a young teenage girl sat in her school uniform, quietly chewing on her cereal, kicking her feet against the bar and reading _War and Peace_.

            “Hello, Johnny,” Laura said, before taking another bite of her cheerios.

            “Laura,” Johnny said, looking around. “Where’s your brother?”

            “He went to get coffee for you because he said you would have a hangover,” She said, lifting her book to turn the page and sit it back down. “He believes you prefer an inferior brand than what he has here.”

            “Dunkin Donuts is not inferior. It’s a New York staple.”

            Laura shrugged, her eyes not leaving her book. “Akihiro did not grow up in New York. Perhaps that explains his preference.” She wrinkled her nose. “Though I agree that the smell of your coffee is distasteful compared to his.”

            “Thanks, Laura,” Johnny said. He hopped to sit at the far end of the bar from her, right as he heard keys in the lock.

            Akihiro Howlett swept through the door, there’s no other word for it, in a three piece suit and perfectly manicured nails. Johnny may be biased, but no one could deny that Akihiro looked good. Akihiro dropped two Styrofoam cups of coffee in front of Johnny, along with a frosted donut. “Laura and I have superior genetics,” Akihiro said, opening the fridge to retrieve what had to be an expensive organic disgusting kale smoothie.

            “Ugh, you sound like all those scientists on the news,” Johnny said. “But these coffee and donuts are a godsend, so I have to forgive you.”

            “Akihiro and I do not believe that _homo superior_ is instinctively better than _homo sapien_ ,” Laura muttered, still focused on her book. “I think that he is referring to our taste in food and coffee. Though sometimes his choice of breakfast food is rather bland,” She looked up to frown at her brother.

            “Cheerios are much better for you than the omelets made almost entirely out of Siracha sauce that Sarah lets you eat,” Akihiro countered, leaning back against the fridge.

            “My mother prefers to let me indulge in my natural tastes,” Laura recited, as if reading from a medical text book.

            “You should put a shirt on in front of my sister,” Akihiro said, turning to Johnny. “You’re poisoning her innocent mind.”

            “I don’t think Laura’s spicy food problem has any relation to my clothing or lack thereof,” Johnny said. “But, if you insist.”

            He heads back to the bedroom and searches for his t-shirt and finds it stacked in the closet with an accompanying post it wardrobe critique, with the addition that Johnny should never leave his t shirts just out in the open like that, they’ll wrinkle. Johnny had Sue growing up, thanks, he doesn’t need more parenting tips. Especially not from the guy he's in love with. Not that he's telling Akihiro that, but still. It's the principle of the thing.

 

            Later, Johnny accompanied Akihiro on his occasional dropping Laura off at school run, a trip where he can luckily eschew his typical hat and paparazzi sunglasses for, since Laura attends the kind of elite prep school that all rich homo superior children attend, where a tv star, especially a sapien one, is not going to get gawked at. Akihiro idled the car outside of the school and rolls down the windows to watch Laura walk in.

            “Are we spying on your sister?” Johnny asked. “Because I’d like to know before I get wrapped in to a secret mission.”

            “We are not spying on Laura,” Akihiro replied. “We are spying on the Red Guard trainee who wants to be her boyfriend.”

            “What?”

            Akihiro pointed out the window, to a teen boy who running up the stairs to Laura, before levitating and flying the last few steps. The boy is tall, dark haired and tan, the perfect image of a rich homo superior in love with Magneto’s regime. He is likely part of the Red Guard youth corps as Akihiro said, a suspicion only increased by the bright military pins emblazoned on his school jacket. Laura smiles shyly at him, to which he confidently grins and takes some of her books.

            “Who is that?’” Johnny asked.

            Akihiro put the car in drive and sped away from the school, his mouth furrowing. “Julian Keller.” He sounded petulant.

            “They seem cute,” Johnny said. “What’s the problem?”

            “The problem is that Keller knows that Laura is related to our father and probably just wants an in with the leader of the Red Guard. He was dating his fellow trainee Sofia Mantega only a month ago.” Akihiro drove fast, almost dangerously so, turning corners quickly to get to work. Shinobi Shaw was going to kill them if they showed up late again, so Johnny understood. But it would still be nice if the person with a healing factor took a little better care of his friend who was not so gifted.

            “How do you know that?”

            Akihiro smirked. “I have my sources. The same ones that found you passed out last night behind that club downtown.”

            “Ugh,” Johnny rubbed his hands over his face. “Was it bad?”

            “Terrible. You had vomit all over your shoes and Darla Deering seemed very upset with you.”

            “Great.”

            “We have got to stop meeting that way,” Akihiro said. “Me finding you passed out, you waking up in my bed...”

            “You didn’t even sleep on the couch like a normal person, did you?” Johnny asked. “You just climbed into bed right next to me.”

            “I made sure you didn’t choke to death in your sleep,” Akihiro said. “And my bed is the most comfortable thing in the apartment.”

            “Oh my god,” Johnny said.

            “You could do with a worst Sapien Death Battle manager, I hear Howard Stark has all but disowned Tony is he doesn’t perform well in his next match.”

            “I’m his next match,” Johnny reminded.

            “Goodbye to your grand fortune then, Tony Stark,” Akihiro said, turning the wheel into the backlot for the Sapien Death Match filming arena. He had only to smile at the parking attendant, a young girl with pink scales and wings, before she lifted up the gate, giggling all the while.

            “Pheromones,” Johnny muttered.

            “I get dates on my own natural talent, Johnny,” Akihiro said. “It’s you who never have good ones. I do not think Ms. Deering is ever going to want to see you again. Such a shame.”

            “You could say that with some kind of sympathy, you know.”

            Akihiro pulled the car into park at their spot, then got out and ran his hand through his perfectly mohawk, which had not had a hair out of place even before he did so. Johnny did not want that mohawk, but he was jealous of all that hair.

            “I wouldn’t be me if I was,” Akihiro said, turning back to Johnny and putting on his 1000 kilowatt smile.

 

            Shinobi Shaw, owner and tv personality host of Sapien Death Match, was angry when they walk in the door.

            “Late again Storm,” He hissed from his make-up chair, waving away his various attendants. “Not that I expected much better from your little showing last night.” He thrust a copy of The Pulse under Johnny’s nose, bearing a photo of Johnny grinding against three different women, with a fuming Darla Deering glaring in the background.

            “Not like you’re much better, Shaw,” Johnny said. “In fact, weren’t you at the club last night too?”

            “I keep my indiscretions private, like your friend Hiro.”

            Akihiro raised one eyebrow. “I have been in my fair share of papers, Shaw,” He said. “I am not proud of those moments, but there was a time when I was known as the leader of the Red Guard’s bad boy son. And I believe we should remain on a full name basis.”

            Johnny snickered, “Yeah, who can forget Lester Pointdexter’s infamous gay panic.”

            Akihiro shrugged, “Baseball was interesting for four brief months.”

            Shinobi gestured dismissively at them. “Just get in your armor, Storm. And get up in the view box _Akihiro_. We need to link you up to voice control immediately. Stark is eager to begin his match.”

            “Which one,” Johnny asked. “Tony or Howard?”

            “I think you can guess,” Shinobi spit, before turning his back to them and moving back to make-up.

 

            The match was not due to start until 7:00 that evening, but it took at least four hours to get into the powered exoskeleton, and two to link up voice control to Akihiro and walk the arena. The arena was typical enough, not a big different from the typical Sapien Death Match sets. But Johnny always struggled to get adjusted to the suit and neural interface. He wanted the flames to come naturally, an extension of his body. Thinking about them always felt like more of a struggle than it should.

            “How’s the arena?” Akihiro’s voice pumped into Johnny’s helmet, oddly distorted by the mechanics.

            “Normal enough. The water pit in the left most corner could present an issue, though.”

            “Well, try to avoid it. Push Stark into the right whenever you can.”

            “Can do.”

            “And Johnny?”

            “Yes?” He asked, rolling his arms in the suit. It was odd for Akihiro to ask any more than just the cursory questions right before the match, saying Johnny needed to get in the zone as much as possible. Well, that’s Johnny’s paraphrasing, but you get the idea.

            “Remember, the show may be called ‘Sapien _Death_ Match’, but that doesn’t mean you’re actually a gladiator. You can bow out if you’re about to go unconscious.”

            Johnny was hurt. “Wow, great vote of confidence there, Hiro. Way to psych me up.”

            There was an odd silence on the other end. Johnny swallowed. That’s not a good sign.

 

At 6:45 exactly, Johnny was positioned in front of the bay doors leading into the arena, waiting for the call that will propel him out into the stadium now hopefully filled with cheering fans. He could feel excitement start to thrum down his veins. Johnny loved Sapien Death Match, the glamour, the lights, the adrenaline that runs through him in every match. It’s not staged, which is much more than he can say for the homo superior leagues, and its in the exoskeleton, with Akihiro’s voice coming through his ear, that Johnny feels most like a _person_. Like someone worth the attention he gets. He thinks Sue would be proud of him. He hopes so, at least.

Before Johnny could fully count down from 10, the bay doors open to the arena and the rush of the screams fill his ears, filtered through the suit.

“Voice control online,” Akihiro’s cool tones came in. “Are you ready Johnny?”

            “Please,” Johnny ignited the flame function and let the fire spread over the suit. “I was born ready.”

            Akihiro’s sigh echoed as static.

Johnny laughed. “Tony’s not going to know what hit him. Don’t worry.”

Then a giant metal fist slammed into the cheek of his exoskeleton. The punch didn’t break Johnny’s skin, secured by the suit, but he can feel the shock as he’s skyrocketed across the arena, to hit against the rock and fall to the packed dirt ground.

“Starting out strong, Tony?” Johnny called out through the suit’s speakers.

The other suit was quiet, its flare boots turning on to fly at Johnny at breakneck speed.

“Crap,” Johnny said, barrel rolling out of the way. Tony didn’t fight like this. Tony was as boastful as Johnny was, preferring to pander to the crowd and do a lot of acrobatics rather than straight on hitting. “Hiro?” Johnny yelled down the line. “Is that Tony in the suit?”

“…It is the Iron Man armour,” Akihiro said after a pause.

“Is that Tony in the suit?” Johnny asked again.

“No, Johnny,” Akihiro said quietly. It’s not often that Johnny heard something like regret in his voice. “It’s Howard.”

“Howard? But you can’t just switch with your manager, that’s against the rules.” Johnny flew up toward the ceiling of the arena, performing a complicated series of flips and turns to avoid the Iron Man Suit on charge.

“Shinobi has a lot of money riding on the match. Plus he wants you out of the game,” Akihiro said. “An injury is the easiest way to achieve that.”

“Goddammit, Hiro!” Johnny said, spiraling low to the ground just as Howard surged high. “You knew?”

“I just found out when I got up to the view box. But I had my suspicions.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Johnny yelled. “I thought we were friends.”

“So did I,” Akihiro said. “I just thought you could win and it would be better if you didn’t worry about this.”

“It would be better if I _knew_ , Hiro,” Johnny turned the flame on the suit all the way on. It made the exoskeleton uncomfortably hot, but the supernova function was his most powerful weapon. “I’m not a child, you can’t keep secrets from me.”

“Johnny,” Akihiro said. Then nothing else.

Whatever, Johnny didn’t need his friend/crush/whatever to win this match. He surged up to Howard in the suit, firey hot in the suit. “Think you can’t take me on, Iron Man?” He said. “Or should I say _Howard_?”

The Iron Man suit bore down on Johnny, who grabbed both of its fists with his exoskeleton and concentrated on burning through the armor. The fire licked through the metal, heating it white hot to the point where Johnny could almost _almost_ see Howard’s fists coming through. Then he went into shock, water rushing in through the cracks in his suit.

Howard had slammed them both into the water pit, pushing Johnny down as far as he could, the Human Torch exoskeleton slowly falling apart around him. “Hiro?” Johnny called, praying the voice control function still worked. “Hiro, please, I just need to hear you, I don’t think this is going to go well.”

“Johnny?” Akihiro’s voice came out garbled, like he was drowning too, the sound coming out too concerned to be something he’d actually say.

“Hey man,” Johnny said. His chest felt tight. “Give Shinobi hell for me, alright?”

That’s when everything went black.


End file.
